


An Object Lesson

by Devilc



Series: Batman/Green Arrow [1]
Category: Batman/Green Arrow
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-07
Updated: 2010-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman is a blunt teacher</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Object Lesson

**Author's Note:**

> I caught the last 30 issues or so of Chuck Dixon's run on Green Arrow and the first 25 issues of Grant Morrison's JLA. I grew to like Connor Hawke. A lot of hints were dropped that he was gay  in fact, at one San Diego con, a DC creator mentioned that he heard the character was designed as gay from day one, but editorial just hadn't been brave enough to drop that little bomb upon the fanboys....
> 
> Beware -- this series is some of my first fanfic.

The arrangement of arrows and trophies in his late father's display case had troubled Connor Hawke for some weeks now. It was off, somehow. He woke from a sound sleep with the solution. Though it was 2am, and his Sensei would probably chide him for impatience, Connor was determined to re-arrange the display case  now.

He rose, tip toed to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face, combed his short blond hair, and studied his face for a moment in the mirror. Why was his father's display case troubling him so? He'd barely known the man, most of what he knew came from stories. Other than his green eyes and blond hair, he didn't even resemble him; his dusky skin color came from his grandfather, a black man, and his high, flat cheekbones were a legacy from his Korean grandmother. Yet he felt he owed his father a duty, why?

He returned to his room and quietly dressed. UN regulations specified that while on board the JLA's space station, he must wear his uniform. It made sense, after all, security reasons, but it was still annoying to have to get all dressed up to simply go up, unlock the case, and add a few arrows. Sigh.

He quietly walked out to the barn and entered the small store room where the teleportation equipment was located. Footsteps in the straw behind him. "Hello, Master Jansen" he said, not bothering to turn and look.

"I did not hear your phone ring. Why are you going up there?"

Sigh. "My father's trophy case, Master. The answer came to me in my dream, and I figured since it woke me, I might as well go. Plus, I must admit, I like to look at the Earth from up there. It's oddly soothing."

A friendly chuckle was his only reply, and his Sensei's footsteps retreated into the distance.

A flash of light and a strange, tickling sensation, and Connor was on the JLA's orbiting station. He quickly walked down the corridor to the Hall of Fame and unlocked his father's display.

The display had all sorts of trick arrows and pictures of other gadgetry, but there was nothing to indicate that Oliver Queen had, for the most part, used ordinary arrows. Connor took two from his quiver and placed them in the case. He paused for a moment and studied a picture of Oliver and his then sidekick, Speedy. He had never felt jealousy for Speedy (now called Arsenal) though he heard that the reverse was not true. He studied a picture of his father with Hal Jordan. His relationship with Kyle Rayner was so different. Oliver and Hal had been friends and equals. Connor liked Kyle well enough, and they had worked together in the past, but it was as clear as glass that the main reason Kyle wanted Connor on the JLA was so there would be another young and inexperienced team-member. Since he had come on board, Kyle had scarcely spoken 3 words to him, spending most of his time with the Flash. But that was okay, because Connor actually preferred the company of the more experienced team members, and they, including Batman, actually seemed to like him. Batman had actually praised him.

His duty done, Connor closed and locked the display case. As he walked back down the corridor, he passed his own display, pitifully bare when compared to the ostentatious displays of the Flash and Green Lantern. A picture of him, bow drawn, a picture of Master Jansen, an arrow that had survived his encounter with the Key, a zen text, and a sticker proclaiming, "Meat is murder." Kyle had razzed him a bit about the sparseness of it all, and he had responded, "Look Kyle, my case tells you all you need to know. I'm a novice. I know it. I don't feel the need to compensate for any short comings, real or imagined." A remark which drew an amused snort from Batman and a week of silence from Kyle.

Connor reached a small alcove offering a spectacular view of the Earth. He sat down, assumed the Lotus position, and began meditating. After a length of time, he heard footsteps, soft, almost silent. As they passed by he said, "Good morning, Batman."

Full stop. Silence. Then, "How did you know it was me?"

"Because it was almost silent, with an even, measured pace. You really have to listen for it, tune out any distractions. To mangle Carl Sandberg, 'The bat comes in on little cat feet.'"

"I sneak up on the others on a regular basis." The deep bass held a hint of amusement.

"Too many distractions to hear you. Superman, for instance, is too busy listening to atoms bang together. None of them live fully in the moment."

"So we all have our walks then?"

Connor swiveled and and slowly drank in the superbly muscled, 6'2" frame. He could not understand why so many people made such a big deal out of Wonder Woman's body, when Batman looked like a work of art. Connor took a deep breath in an effort to calm his racing heart. For some reason Batman always had this effect on him.

Meeting Batman's steely blue stare, he replied, "Kyle clomps. Wally sounds like an oncoming train. Superman's has an electric hum. J'onn weighs 300 pounds and it shows. Aztek's usually distracted  uneven cadence. Aquaman walks, for want of a better term, like a fish out of water. Wonder Woman walks like a woman."

Pause. A deferential nod of the head, a hint of an approving smile, "I would've phrased it differently, but you have very keen powers of observation."

Connor blushed at the unexpected praise. Batman seldom had a good word for anybody, and now he had praised him twice.

"May I ask you a question?"

The stare hardened. "Maybe."

Connor decided to stand. There was just something a little unsettling about being stared so far down on. Even standing, Batman still had a 5 inch hight advantage on him. Connor swallowed hard before continuing, "How old were you when you began your training?"

"In earnest, 18. I laid the foundation in my youth, but I really got serious after graduating from college. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I just wanted to get an idea of how long it would take to even begin to approach your level of skill."

Batman stepped in even closer, eyes blazing, "Don't belittle yourself, Green Arrow, you're young and inexperienced, but when you mature you'll be a better man than your father. Robin eventually told me about your little adventure together in Gotham, good, but a bit clumsy. But the first step toward inner balence would be for you to admit to yourself who you are and deal with the consequences."

"What? And please call me Connor."

"You are not the only one with sharp eyes...Connor. When Wonder Woman walks by, heads turn. She irritates me to no end, but I'll admit she's a beautiful woman. Heads turn, except for J'onn's and yours. J'onn's a Martian. He was socialized amongst Martians, he likes Martian women. And you,...Connor, are gay, and the sooner you tear down the walls you've built to stop yourself from recognizing that fact, the happier you'll be."

"What do you mean? Look, I grew up in a monastery. I haven't had that much experience with women, that's all."

"This isn't about experience...Connor. It's about being 19, hormones racing through your body. Nobody has control that good at 19. Nobody. This is about instincts, not experience."

"Look, Batman, it's not like I haven't been kissed by a woman."

The blue eyes bored into him. Batman stepped closer. Connor edged back. "And, what was it like when they kissed you?"

"It was, well...nice."

A coldly amused snort. "Listen to yourself, boy. You have to think about it to call being kissed  being kissed, not kissing  'nice'." The massive form towered over Connor, and stepped in so that they were chest to chest. Connor, heart racing, tried to step back, but there was no room, only the wall. He willed himself to meet Batman's stare.

Before he could react, Batman had him a crushing embrace, one hand on his head, holding him steady before the onslaught of those punishing lips and devouring tongue, the other hand clenching his ass, grinding his hips into Batman's. Before he realized what he was doing, Connor put his arms around Batman's waist and returned the kiss whole heartedly.

Suddenly it was over. Connor, panting, heart hammering in his ears, felt himself sliding down the wall towards a sitting position. As if from a great distance came a mocking voice, "And those other kisses, were they as 'nice' as that?"

When he looked up, Batman was gone.

Alone and confused, Connor staggered down the hall to the transporters. In a fog he stumbled across the yard to his room. Without undressing, he climbed into bed, only to be claimed by troubled dreams.


End file.
